


Good Pet

by Zenniet



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Butt Plugs, Collars, Established Relationship, Master/Pet, Oral Sex, Other, Petplay, Riding, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24398320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenniet/pseuds/Zenniet
Summary: You want to be a good pet for your master.
Relationships: Jazz (Transformers)/You
Kudos: 51





	Good Pet

Jazz’s servos were so delicate as they stroked over your kibble. There was something playing on the screen in front of him, in front of your shared berth, and while your optics were at least somewhat focused on it, you weren’t paying attention. With your helm in his lap and his servos petting your frame, it was hard to pay attention to anything but those digits as they dipped and stroked against sensitive seams in your plating. You vent out slowly as you begin to feel yourself float ever so slightly. You lean into him some more and he takes notice.

“Do you want your collar, baby?” He asks, the backs of his digits reaching and stroking your cheek. You nod and let your engine purr, lifting your helm to allow him to go and retrieve your collar from the little chest he keeps it in. You sit up and tilt your head in curiosity when he walks back with two other things in his servos. A bottle of lubricant and your tail plug, the plush faux fur of it unmistakable, especially since it matches your paintjob.

“Do you want your tail this time, sweet stuff?” He holds it up and you take the position you usually do for this- chest pressed to the berth with your aft in the air- and you let your aft panel open. Jazz never really draws out this part of the play, only lengthening it as long as he has to for it to be pleasurable for you before putting the plug in. He does the same this time as he had the other times, teasing you open with lubricant slicked digits before easing the plug into your port and finishing with a light tap to your aft.

Your engine offers up a low purr as thanks, and you let your weight lean against him the moment he’s seated on the berth. You rub against him and purr, his servo finding its spot on top of your helm.

“Do you wanna play, baby?” He asks. Sometimes when you’re his pet he’ll take out toys and play some games with you. You normally love to play, whether it be chasing around a treat ball or catching something he’s dangling in front of you, but this time you aren’t quite feeling it. Your frame wants to lay against his and not leave his side, so you give him a soft huff and lay down.

“No games today, then.” He says. You reach up and grab him to drag him down to lay with you, throwing an arm and a leg over his frame, trapping him. You hear him chuckle and he resumes petting you. You relax easily under his affectionate touching, all the tension melting away from your body. Every in-vent reminds you of the presence of that collar around your neck cabling, and the little metal tag on it saying who you belong to.

You look up into Jazz’s visor when he uses a servo to cradle your cheek. You turn into it, pressing a light kiss to his palm, then hold eye contact as you give the tip of his thumb a lick. You see the hint of a devious smile in the twitch of his lips. You repeat the motion, licking up the to segment of his thumb then pressing a kiss to the tip, letting your lips linger there to see if he’ll do anything. He remains still. You lower your helm and take his digit in your mouth, purring your engine louder as your glossa laves at it before pulling off.

His EM field brushes up against yours and you can feel his arousal. _Yes_ , you want to draw out more of that. You want to make your master feel good. You creep down the berth, settling between his legs and wait for him to open his spike panel for you. He doesn’t.

“What exactly do you want, baby? You gotta show me.” He says nonchalantly, as though he were clueless to what you desired, even though he’s spreading his legs for you. With a huff, you lower your helm between his thighs and let your servos rest in little fists atop his legs.

You lean forward. You’re met with the scent of lubricant and arousal from behind his heated panel. You poke your glossa out and eagerly lap at his shut panel, paying special attention to the seams. You _need_ his spike, you want so badly to make him feel good and make him overload hard down your intake. Your processor swims with the thought of getting to taste your master’s transfluid and hear him moaning for you.

You whine when after a couple licks, he still hasn’t popped for you. Were you doing something wrong? Before you can start to worry on if you’d messed up somehow, he reaches down and puts a servo on your head, petting your helm as he disengages his spike panel.

“Takes so much effort to hold back from you,” He chuckles, his voice breathy and low, “You’re too fraggin’ good at this.” His spike extends in front of your optics the biolights along it pulsing slowly. You admire it as though it is the most delicious treat you’ve ever been offered before you press a revering kiss to the head, tasting his lubricant.

When you run your glossa over his slit he leans back into the pillows behind him with a soft sigh, his servo on your head petting and encouraging you as his field meshes with yours to send through delicate praise. You start slow on his spike, suckling it and letting little mewling sounds emanate from your vocalizer, your optics looking up to meet his as you defer to your master.

“So good,” He hums, “Such a good pet. You know just how to suck my spike, don’t you?” Those words send a shiver down your spinal strut as you gradually start to pick up the pace, lifting and lowering your helm to take his spike in your mouth. Your glossa presses on the little biolights that mark the underside of his length, feeling them bump against your tongue and remind you of how good they feel when they’re in your valve.

One of your servos leaves his leg. You know that he’ll notice and that he will most likely call you out on it, but you let your servo slip between your legs and find your valve. Your digits barely brush against your node before the hand on your helm tightens and you’re roughly pulled off of Jazz’s spike. You give a pathetic whine, yanking your servo away from your valve as if you could make him forget what you were doing.

“Ah, was my little pet touching themself?” He asks, visor peering into your optics. You look down and away from him, your body shivering as you whimper. “We can’t have that. Good pets don’t touch themselves.”

He sits up properly and drops you, letting your helm fall back onto the berth between his legs. His spike is still twitching and stiff, and you wonder what he’ll have you do next.

“Now, how should I punish you this time?” He looks down at you. “Last time I banned you from overloading for a week, and it’s looking like that didn’t get through to you. How about… Oh, how about you’re not allowed to service me for a week, then?”

You whine loudly, looking up at him with pleading optics. You could handle a week without overloading yourself, but a week without being able to make your master feel good? To make him moan and praise you? That sounded _unbearable_. He chuckles at your little display.

“What, does that sound harsh?” His servo pets your helm as you whine and whimper and shiver. “You poor little thing, making me feel like a bad master for treating you like that, but you know the rules, don’t you?” He only keeps petting you for a second more before he sighs and pulls back, flopping back against the pillows. “Okay, fine. No punishment. _This_ time. But you’d better start making it up to me.” He taps the plating next to his spike and you more than get the message, your frame perking up immediately.

You quickly situate yourself over his spike before taking his length in your slick valve in one go. He gives you a strained moan and you get to work riding him, rolling your hips and bouncing on his spike as you offer up the little breathy moans that you know he likes.

If you knew that it was so easy to get out of a punishment, you would have done it last time. As his servos grip your hips he starts to thrust up to meet you, his engine growling a low, possessive note. His spike rakes against all your most sensitive nodes, hammering into your ceiling node on every thrust. You let out sharp, yelping moans with every ram into that node that sends charge racing through your lines.

“Come on, baby,” He purrs, “Overload for me.” With that command, you slam your hips down and howl out as your climax overtakes you, crashing over you like a tsunami and making your whole frame quake with the force of it. You vaguely register Jazz moaning out your name before the hot splashes of transfluid paint your inner walls. Your charge rolls through you before it finally peters out and allows you to vent and slump down to lay on top of Jazz’s front.

“You know,” He sighs, servo stroking your back. “You’d better not think that you’re going to get out of punishment this easily again.”

You just purr and nuzzle into him, already planning on how to evade your next penalty.

**Author's Note:**

> Done as a request! Find out how to request stuff from me [here!](https://zenniet.tumblr.com/post/189864077750/how-to-request)


End file.
